


these words lie inside

by summerdayghost



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mindfuck, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-22 09:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdayghost/pseuds/summerdayghost
Summary: Anyone was capable of losing their mind Bones supposed.





	these words lie inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_rck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/gifts).



Capable young man was a description Bones could picture himself applying to Chekov. It was possible he already had in some forgotten conversation. This would be far from undeserved. Chekov was quite the gifted navigator.

He knew Chekov was going to go on to do a lot of things. Grand theft shuttlecraft was not one of them. Neither was kidnapping. And yet here they were, drifting into far reaches of space.

For all of Bones’s efforts, he couldn’t seem to logic his way through this one. He doubted even Spock could have done that. This was all too irrational.

It just didn’t make sense. Why would Chekov want to leave the Enterprise? He loved that ship nearly as much as their captain did. More importantly (at least to Bones) why would Chekov force him along for the ride? He didn’t have much to offer in terms of ideal companionship.

Anyone was capable of losing their mind Bones supposed.

***

The shuttlecraft only had a single bed. Bones figured it was lucky this one had a bed at all. At night— well Bones didn’t know if it was night exactly. Clocks were nowhere to be found, and looking out the window out into space yielded no clues. For the sake of his own sanity Bones thought of when they slept as night and when they woke as morning.

So at night Bones got the bed. Chekov took the floor. He must have retained some sense of charity even if he lost all sense. Sometimes deep into the night and only when Chekov absolutely believed Bones was fast asleep he would crawl up into bed with Bones.

Such nights were cramped and uncomfortable. The bed was too small for just him alone. Bones and Chekov together? Forget about it. Chekov always claimed he did this for comfort, but he held him in his arms so tight. He held him in his arms so tight Bones could have sworn he was trying to crush him.

***

A needle and thread. How infantile. How barbaric. They were hardly medical supplies. Yet they were all the shuttlecraft had in stock that could deal with the gash in Chekov side. Bones couldn’t just let him die.

Actually, he could have. Maybe he should have. It wasn’t like Bones didn’t have reason to resent him right now. He was a captive after all. Anyone would have understood if he did.

But letting Chekov die wouldn’t have been without its complications. Mainly in that Bones was useless with flying. Let Chekov bleed out and Bones himself would likely be crashed somewhere and horribly injured in a week. Possibly even dead.

As Bones stitched him up Chekov was pale staring out into nothing. Obviously he didn’t think this through well enough. He didn’t think at all. He just did.

***

Hours after Bones had gotten out of bed Chekov still laid there. He wasn’t doing anything, just resting flat on his back staring vaguely upwards. At least someone was relaxing.

“No one’s coming for us,” he mumbled.

Bones understood that from day one. Hour one. Minute one. There was no need to gloat.

***

Despite all that had happened Bones still saw Chekov as a pretty alright kid. He was just on the wrong path, that’s all. Well, that wasn’t _all_ , but he’d be damned if that wasn’t a significant portion of it. Chekov was an alright kid that needed help. Whether it was the medical training or the loneliness forcing this perspective Bones couldn’t say.

No matter which one it was Bones made sure Chekov ate. It wasn’t gourmet. Bones was never a chef and even if he were there were no ingredients. They didn’t even have a replicator. All they had was several years worth of ready to eat packages. Tasted like metal but it was better than nothing.

He wouldn’t have to do this if Chekov would just prepare food for himself. Forgetful, Bones hoped. He had a lot to dwell on. Like the weight of his crimes or maybe turning himself in for instance. Considering the way Chekov would hesitate before eating perhaps Bones was being too optimistic.

***

Chekov was on the floor, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Bones could have laughed but the opportunity was too pressing, too urgent, so he softened his voice, “I only want what we both do.”

“There’s nothing both of us want,” Chekov laughed for him.

“Of course there is,” he crouched down, “Just take us home. I would like that very much, and I think you would too.”

Chekov was quiet, “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” The truth?

“Like that,” he sat up a little, “If you owe me anything-”

“I owe you nothing.”

***

Back and forth, back and forth. That had been all Chekov had been doing for the better part of an hour. Going back and forth, back and forth.

Frankly it was making Bones dizzy. There wasn’t enough space to really walk in here. After a few steps he’d have to turn around and it was all so fast and Bones hated it.

Somehow it was even more disorientating when he came to an abrupt stop. Bones just couldn’t win.

“Before… before all of this,” Chekov was facing away from him, “I actually thought you were decent.”

Bones rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had done to earn such a slight, if that could even be considered a slight. This probably wasn’t how Chekov imagined things going, and now that he hadn’t gotten his way he just had to sulk. Typical.

All Bones felt when he wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the day was annoyed.

***

Motionless at the control panel Chekov hummed a tune. To describe it was solemn would have been an understatement. Although Bones wasn’t sure an upbeat song would be an improvement. Most likely it would have turned out creepy or even more depressing. Bones would have been happiest with silence.

***

The day Bones lost his mind according to his own estimation was the day he finally kissed Chekov. All the feelings he’d been experiencing were aggravating because he knew exactly what this was. He’d read about it. Of all the people he thought he’d be able to avoid this trap.

He decided that self awareness was no longer a strong enough reason to deny himself. Chekov was sweet despite his flaws and Bones was fond of him. More fond of him now than he was before this whole fucked up shebang if Bones was being honest with himself. So he kissed Chekov.

When he broke away Chekov immediately leaned in for another kiss. Chekov’s kiss had been comparatively chaste. It was charming.

Bones frowned, “Was this your plan the whole time?”

“No. I don’t— I wasn’t— it’s just,” he kissed him yet again and the nervous energy was so strong Bones could have sworn he tasted it.

He grabbed his hands, “There’s no need to lie to me.”

It was too late for that. Lies were for people that had space and lines and dividing. Such luxuries were stripped away from them long ago.

Something in Chekov’s eyes broke, “Won’t you please let me go.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song Age of Consent by New Order.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
